Goblin Support Society
by Jurodan
Summary: "A problem shared is a problem halved." Priestess has watched women being carted off to convents too many times. She has watched women suffer in silence. *She* has suffered in silence. But maybe, maybe she can help. Maybe those old words can help her and those around her, those who suffered under goblins.
1. Chapter 1

Goblin Support Society

Chapter 1: Another One

Note: This is an idea I've been kicking around, a bit of a side project. I have to read some more, but to give it a rough place, this starts at an indeterminate time after the attack on the farm, but before the harvest festival.

I am not intending to describe anything outwardly graphic. If that changes I will add a warning.

* * *

"Another one."

Axe-Wielder glowered at Sorcerer as she looked back at her book and turned a page. At this point all she was doing was antagonizing him. "Why do they get to reserve that room? Isn't that a special meeting space for high level missions? Like ours?"

Monk put down his mug of ale, "I believe that it is a special meeting. It's been happening weekly for at least a month."

"Yeah, but what's it for? And why does a obsidian level member get to organize meetings there?" Axe-Wielder did little to hide his irritation or his gaze as it swept to the door, and the young girl holding it open, "It's for more important people than that."

"I have seen a few higher level members of the guild go there." Monk paused, "But they seemed reluctant."

"Embarrassed more like it." Sorcerer murmured, not really reading the page before her. "Another one."

Monk arched an eyebrow, "You think?"

Axe-Wielder grit his teeth and growled. "What could they be planning in there?!" Sorcerer did her best to hide her amusement.

"They're not planning anything." The trio glanced up at Lancer and collectively blinked. He caught Axe-Wielder's eye and frowned, "It's a support group."

"A support group?" Monk and Sorcerer glanced at each other. They hadn't bothered to actually check, but needling Axe-Wielder about it had kept Sorcerer invested for weeks. His steadfast refusal to go and ask, or ask Monk or herself to read the sign posted on the door once it was closed, had left them in the dark as well.

"For what?" Monk asked, and Sorcerer sighed internally. She'd enjoyed ribbing Axe-Wielder, but it seemed like their amusement was about to be cut short.

"People who have had to deal with goblins."

There was a moment of silence as the trio once again exchanged glances. Axe-Wielder looked to the young Priestess as she welcomed someone else in and closed the door behind them. Then he threw his head back and laughed, "Hah! Weaklings! I can't believe anyone would need to go there."

Sorcerer and Monk immediately felt the air grow cold around them and shot Axe-Wielder furtive glances, trying to gain his attention. Lancer's face fell into a grim mask. "You weren't there. Were you?"

"We weren't where?" Axe-Wielder was oblivious to the opinions of others, and ignored the imploring looks from his companions, "Who needs to worry about goblins? They're pests."

Lancer looked like he had bitten into a lemon. "You didn't help defend the farm last season? I can't remember seeing you there, but there were so many of us, I might have missed you."

"Defense of the farm?" Monk cut in, desperate to cut Axe-Wielder off, "We were on a mission, I heard about it afterwards. The guild saved a lot of people and slaughtered a bunch of goblins." He frowned, "It didn't sound that important."

"A lot of women." Sorcerer clarified, "I don't remember anything about any men being saved."

"A bunch of women got captured and you all had to go out to save them?" Axe-Wielder threw his head back and laughed, "Hey Sorcerer, I think-"

The speed at which Lancer grabbed Axe-Wielder's neck was truly astonishing, the clang of gauntlets against gorget cutting off Axe-Wielder's joke before it could even start.

"You don't get to talk about that." Lancer growled, staring Axe-Wielder dead in the eye. "You don't get to crack jokes, and you sure as hell don't get to talk about those women like they're anything but the most unfortunate kind of survivor. You weren't there."

Normally, this sort of nonsense would end with Sorcerer glowering, maybe Monk stepping in and giving Axe-Wielder a dope-slap or a chop on the head. You know playful adventurer banter? Same as calling your elf party member a washboard or trying to convince someone to eat old rations you found in a three-month-old sack?

So Lancer's vice-grip on Axe-Wielder's gorget threw him completely off. Even if he wasn't held by the neck by a silver-rank, dangling inches from the ground, he'd be shocked into silence. Monk slid back into a stance, while Sorcerer grabbed at Lancer's upper-arms.

"C… C'mon, just teasing Sorcerer, didn' mean nothing on whatever happened to those girls or that farm," Axe-Wielder stumbled on his words, apprehension twinging his already coarse speech. He looked to the ceiling, desperately wanting to break eye contact with Lancer, "I… I shouldn' been runnin' my mouth, alright?"

"He's just an idiot," Sorcerer said. Her expression remained as it always did, exhausted, dreary, melancholic. Even her voice was borderline monotone, almost belying a sense of not caring, besides the grip she had on Lancer's arms, her tattered and worn spell book fallen on the floor in the initial scuffle, "He doesn't think about anything at all, beyond meat and fights, but he's not a creep or like our last party member. Let him go. Please."

"Yes, he's just a fool who was just speaking when the wise would remain silent." Monk leapt onto her train of logic, hoping to avoid losing rank, "Really, we don't pay attention to anything he says, I swear."

"Hey!"

A hand was placed on his shoulder forestalling further protest, "You," Dark Magician smiled benignly, "should probably" her gaze drifted to Monk, "take" her grin remained plastered on her lips as she gazed right through Axe Warrior on her way to meeting Sorcerer's gaze, "a goblin" her eyes returned to Axe-Wielder, meeting his, but obviously not looking him in the eye, "mission."

"Uh." Axe-Wielder stared as Dark Magician reached up and stroked his chin, then turned and walked away. He turned back to Lancer, "Uh..."

"That's a fantastic idea." He said dryly, "Either you'll find out why they have that meeting," He smiled without a trace of humor, "or you won't come back."

He moved to turn, but paused, glancing at Sorcerer. "Be careful."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: A Brave Entrance

Note: First I should note that I'm not a therapist, and I haven't used group therapy. What I know of group therapy is what I've read, and while I've been reading, it does not mean that this will match actual group therapy. The concept of group therapy, which wouldn't even have that name yet in this setting, is about a month old and is being run by amateurs.

* * *

The moment he entered the room Bard hesitated. A dozen women were sitting in the room already; a few watched as he entered, others broke off conversation. He froze up, staring and being stared at. He wanted more than anything to leave. This was a mistake, a stupid mistake, he didn't belong here. What he was going through couldn't compare to what they had gone through. Even talking would insult them.

Behind him the door closed. He shot a glance back, opened his mouth, but was preempted by Priestess, "Please, take a seat." She smiled, but there was no happiness there. Bard suspected there would never be during these sessions. He bowed his head as he wandered to the closest seat. It felt so distant from the door. He took an uneasy breathe and sat down, studiously avoiding the gaze of the women next to him.

"Welcome, all of you, thank you all for coming." Her smile seemed so forced, but it remained as she spoke, "I'd like to start off with some good news. Goblin Slayer wiped out a nest far from town yesterday. And a party of steels has returned after eradicating a nest near elven lands."

There were pleased murmurs, but one of the women next to him frowned, "It isn't enough." Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper, and he wasn't sure anyone else could have heard her. "It will never be enough." Bard was inclined to agree.

"I see some new attendees today. I would like to thank you for coming. We normally start meetings by introducing ourselves and briefly explaining what our background with Goblins is." She rose from her chair, "I am Priestess, my first mission was to hunt down Goblins who had kidnapped some women from a nearby town." With that vaguery she sat down.

Beside her a woman in civilian garb stood up, "I am Butcher's Daughter. I was an adventurer and my last mission was a Goblin mission."

"I am Warrior, I was tracking down bandits when I was ambushed by Goblins."

"I am Spear Maiden, my... my sister was taken from me by Goblins."

Bard listened, and dread mounted within him as it drew closer to his turn. They'd experienced so much worse than him, all of them. He'd have to tell them something, make up a sibling, a lover maybe. Some real reason he had to be here.

He was knocked off balance as a hand fell on his shoulder. He looked up and found them all staring at him. Priestess had a benign look on her face, but others looked different. At least one was angry, but others looked concerned. He swallowed nervously.

"It's your turn." The woman to his side said and he felt his blood run cold.

"R-right." He stood stiffly, almost knocking over the chair behind him, "Ah, I am-" the words caught in his throat and his mouth opened and closed for a second. He closed his eyes, "I am Bard and-"

And what was he going to say? He had an idea. He was going to make someone up. Someone none of them had ever heard of or would be able to check really existed.

A hand, from the other side reached out and grasped his. His eyes shot open and he looked down at the previous speaker. Cleric, she's been on an actual Goblin mission. Things had *happened* to her. She was smiling weakly at him, almost pitying. Bard let out a breath, "I am… Bard, and I was at the farm mission last season."

He almost fell into his chair. He felt like the bones in his legs had disappeared. He waited for something, sneers, anger, disgust. A mission where almost no guild members had died, where none had been dragged off, where he hadn't even been wounded.

Nothing.

Instead the woman next to him, the one who had whispered it wasn't enough, rose. "I am Seer, and I have gone on Goblin missions."

"Thank you." Priestess nodded, "This group is to help us move past our experiences with goblins, to heal wounds they've caused us. Some of you may be familiar with the proverb: a problem shared is a problem halved. That is part of what we do here. It can be difficult, so I don't expect everyone to tell their story." Bard watched as her gaze drifted over him, "Please, listen to what others have to say and try not to interrupt." She paused, drinking in the silence and accepting it as acknowledgment. "Additionally, we also discuss how we are coping and moving forward. If you have been able to do anything that you weren't able to do before, please let us know." Another silence, another nod, "Is anyone willing to start?"

* * *

Notes: I understand that it might seem odd that I am putting a male perspective as the primary viewpoint of this chapter, and one who hasn't been raped. The good news for everyone in that room is that the majority of them haven't been raped. Not all of them share the same traumatic experience. All of them have had something done to them by goblins, and all of them are trying to ease each other's pain because of their experiences.

I also did that because a lot of men look at therapy as a sign of weakness. It isn't, nor should it be. Not to go on a diatribe, but seeking help isn't a sign of weakness. Everyone should feel valid to seek help with their own trauma.

Finally, for those of you who have been waiting for an update of my other story, Sometimes All You Need Is A Cheerleader: I am working on the next chapter. I have been having as many troubles with 'Hell Week' as Shinsou and Izuku have.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Moving Forward

The Butcher's Daughter had raised her hand. Bard winced as he looked at her. Her raised hand was missing the pinkie and ring finger. Priestess nodded to her and she rose. She looked uncomfortable, but stolid, he wasn't exactly what she was before, but she had a fighter's build and stance. She turned and he finally caught the eyepatch, the strap must have been hidden by her bangs. She seemed to be evaluating everyone before actually speaking.

"Last night," She said her voice deep but quiet, "I slept without a candle."

There was a pause, and then several of the others began to clap politely. Butcher's Daughter looked immensely uncomfortable, but nodded and sat down.

Bard hadn't joined until he noticed how the others had joined in the gentle applause. Going to sleep without a candle? That was enough to warrant even polite applause? It didn't make sense to him, but clearly it did to others.

"I'll go next." Spear Maiden remained seated, looking far from happy, "I've decided that I'm going to spend the money I was raising for my sister."

Skirmisher, the Rhean sitting next to her nodded, "Have you decided how yet?"

Spear Maiden's frown descended into a grimace, "No. But I don't want it anymore. It isn't going to help my sister." She leaned forward, "I'm sick of its weight."

Priestess nodded sympathetically, "I understand. If you want to go over your options, we can discuss them later." Spear Maiden's grimace remained, but she nodded sullenly.

The room was silent for a moment and Priestess looked around, "Anyone else?"

Alchemist raised her hand; a bit nervously it seemed to Bard, "As you know, I've been looking at new herbs with the help of Cleric, some elves and Druid." She glanced around, clearly that was meant for those who weren't aware, "I, uh, that is we, think we may have been able to come up with a more potent antidote." She bit her lip as more than a few faces swiveled to look not at her but at Priestess. She had gone practically rigid, sitting like a porcelain statue. Bard glanced back to Alchemist who was starting back up, "It will be more expensive than a regular antidote, but it should work against goblin... toxins." A look of distaste crossed her face, "Additionally, it might be useable after it would be too late for common antidotes."

Bard wasn't sure if he saw Priestess's composure crack, or if it was his imagination. She trembled, almost imperceptibly, a rigid expression on her face as if it had been nailed there. Alchemist opened her mouth to continue, but Seer cleared her throat, "Thank you; I assure you we all appreciate your efforts. The guild will be most interested to hear your results and I am sure that Goblin Slayer will put in an order as well."

At that Priestess let out a breath and looked at the floor to regain her composure.

"Are there any other willing to share good news?" Seer looked around without really doing so. "Very well, I think it would now be good for members to explain the issues they've been having so we can help them through them." She turned, looking right past him to Knight Errant, "Would you like to start?"

Note: My understanding is that, in the real world, a psychologist or therapist would be a bit more removed from the sort of events they're working on (not always, but more often than not). Unfortunately for Priestess she is trying to be the setting's first therapist, and she's not fully recovered herself.


	4. Chapter 4: Survivor's Guilt

Chapter 4: Survivors Guilt

There's guilt associated with surviving when others don't. Anger at yourself, at your mistakes. It's difficult, knowing that you got away and others didn't. It's hard to let go of and hard to confront. Sometimes there is simply nothing you can do.

* * *

Knight Errant sighed quietly. Seer irritated her in ways she couldn't quantify; she didn't wait for her to raise her hand. She never waited for people. She lacked Priestess's decorum and tact, but at the moment Priestess was in no position to run things as normally. She hated being put on the spot though, and the Bard gawking at her, and everyone else here, was grating on her nerves.

"Two summers ago, goblins killed my mentor." She tapped her knee, "We had taken a mission to hunt down some bandits who were preying on travelers on the road. They weren't goblins, we had even taken care of a few and had sussed out where the bandits had their camp."

She gnawed on her lip as she recalled what happened next. They'd been so damn clever, wearing lighter armor so they wouldn't give themselves away as easily. They'd seen the clearing the bandits had been using. Sir Knight had lead her around to attack from a better vantage point. They were preparing to attack when the rock struck her helmet. An inch to the right and it would have taken out her eye. She'd turned, disoriented, and nearly caught a javelin in the chest. Her master's shield had covered her at the last second, the crude wood weapon shattering on impact. The arrow that had followed it had managed to pierce her chainmail, but hadn't gotten through the gambeson behind it. And then they were mobbed.

"We thought the bandits had been sloppy, because there weren't any sentries. We were about to attack the camp when the goblins attacked us first." Her lips curled in disgust, "There were just so many of them. A seething mob of mottled green pests, it as if they were as numerous as the leaves on the ground. They almost overran us, but their weapons weren't strong enough to pierce our armor. We backed up against an oak so they couldn't get behind us and fought."

"They kept coming at us. They're small, but they're fast. If I killed one, another would take it's place while another would try to stab between the gaps in my armor." She paused, gnawing on her lip. She wasn't looking at anyone now, eyes fixed on the floor, "Sir Knight had taken me on a retrieval mission before. We had a larger party, wiped the goblins out, it was as much a favor to them as it was early training for me. But you can't forget what you see there. I thought I had, I did. But with so many of them right there in front of me, it came back to me. I knew what they were going to do to me. I knew they were going to get me. I was panicking, getting sloppy. One of them slipped within my guard, he would have driven a knife into my leg if Sir Knight hadn't crushed it's skull with the pommel of his sword. But that left him open."

She could remember hearing his grunt of pain and looking at him as he stumbled, suffering a wound like the one she would have received. One of the goblins in front of her tried to seize the initiative, but Sir Knight growled and attacked, stepping in front of her. "Go. I'll hold them off!" She'd opened her mouth to protest, but he roared over her, "Go! Now! Get help you foolish child!"

"He bought me the time I needed to run. It left him open." She could hear his roar replaced by screams as she ran, "They picked him to pieces while I ran for my life." She visibly deflated, "I knew, even before I got out of those accursed woods that he was dead. Everyone who came back with me knew he was dead. But finding him… hurt. And I knew that they hadn't killed him immediately." Tears were coming and she couldn't stop them, "But the worst thing was learning we didn't even need to be there." She laughed bitterly, shaking her head, "The goblins must have sacked the camp before we even got there. He died for nothing."

"That's not true," Skirmisher countered, "he died so you could get away."

Knight Errant scowled and opened her mouth, but Skirmisher raised her hand, "I've been in that situation before. If things go bad, you want someone to get away." She shifted uncomfortably, "If you hadn't, there wouldn't have been any survivors. The goblins could have picked off the people sent to look for you as well."

"He wouldn't have been wounded if I had remained calm." The retort came out as a hiss.

Warrior leaned forward in her chair, "You think." The muscular woman shook her head, and pointed at Knight Errant, "You don't know that."

Knight Errant glanced at Seer who simply shook her head, "I am sorry, but I am not all seeing. I wish I was." There was bitterness there, but it was incapable of rivaling Knight Errant's.

"I hate to ask," Skirmisher cut in during the momentary silence, "He must have been older than you, I mean, he called you a child. Is it possible he wanted you to run because you were faster?"

"He called me that because I was behaving like one. He hadn't called me that since I served as his page."

"It certainly got your attention." Warrior murmured, "Maybe that's why he said it."

"Back to my point though." Skirmisher said, "Do you think he would have been able to get away even if he hadn't been injured?"

Knight Errant grimaced as she dwelled on the question. Sir Knight had been an accomplished warrior, but he'd been stronger than he was fast. Would she have been able to hold the goblins off long for him to get away? Her grimace descended into a frown and shook her head.

"Then he made the right choice." Skirmisher said softly.

"He shouldn't have needed to make it at all." Knight Errant growled out.

"You're right." Spear Maiden said, gently interposing herself between the two, "And my sister should still be alive. And Priestess's companions shouldn't have been killed. And the goblins shouldn't exist at all. But they do and those things happened. It's not your fault. It's their fault."

Knight Errant opened her mouth, closed it and leaned back in her chair, "Hating them is easy. I can't stop hating them."

"I don't think anyone here would ask you to stop hating them." Priestess's voice was almost benign, "But you're blaming yourself. Sir Knight made a choice, and you're alive because of it. He gave you a gift. The most important gift he could give you." Priestess brought her hands together, "What would he have wanted you to do with it?"

Knight Errant stared at priestess in silence as she spoke, then gently leaned back in her chair, eyes distant.

* * *

Notes: Women alone aren't vulnerable to goblins. Even those who have trained their entire lives can fall victim to massed attacks. Goblins take and take and take until they are gone or there is nothing left to take.


	5. Chapter 5: Getting It

Chapter 5: Getting It

"Would anyone else like to speak today?" The question was spoken by Priestess, but Courier could see Seer look at her. Why? Her eyes narrowed as they met Seer's, and then Seer's drifted, settling on their newest attendee. She hesitated, but then caught Seer's eyes again as they returned to her. "Anyone?"

Courier licked her lips and raised her hand, "Y-yes. I think I should go."

Priestess had calmed herself, dropping into a state where she could listen to the horrors without cracking again. Her voice was nearly preternaturally calm, "Of course."

With a sigh, Courier rose to her feet. "As you know, I am Courier. I bring messages from town to town, or to outposts, or between kingdoms." A series of nods, simple acknowledgements, swept the circle and she nodded to herself in the awkwardness, "With the return of the Demon Lord, the King has needed more and more couriers. At first, it wasn't so unusual. I would go to different communities, farming villages, bring word of new orders and laws and decrees. But things have been changing."

She shifted, almost swaying back and forth on her feet, "I know the King has moved troops to the capital to guard it, and the capital is under threat, but the settlements… it's getting bad. Without the trained soldiers, the goblins are killing people. Some farming villages have set up their own defenses. Some didn't do it in time." She swallowed the rancid taste in her mouth, "I've tried to deliver messages, only to find no one to deliver them to. Either the farmers ran back to the city or were killed in their homes. I've seen untilled land, fields of grain rot with no one to gather them."

She squeezed her hands into fists, "And nobody understands. Nobody gets it. These goblins are worse for the peasants than a plague. I've seen a village that came under attack. The goblins, what they did to those people. They killed the defenders, they butchered them, and then they went house to house. And I couldn't have done anything. I was alone, I was just bringing them a message, and I couldn't, I couldn't look away. I was just coming over a hill and I saw it happening, and I saw some people trying to flee, women and children. And," Her voice hitched, tears streaming from her eyes. A hand came to rest against her back, and she collapsed into her chair.

"People don't get it. They don't see it. They don't think about the small villages that stop sending supplies. They don't see what happens to people."

People don't get it. Courier's words repeat in Bard's head. People don't get it. He didn't get it. At least, he hadn't, not until… he closed his eyes and placed his head in his hands, but it did nothing to block the images, the noises, the whispers from the farm.

A gentle hand was placed on his back and he jumped, hands falling away from his eyes. The others were looking at him, but not unkindly. He'd seen those sorts of eyes recently; when he trailed off during a song.

"It's okay." Cleric's voice was soft and soothing, "They aren't here." She offered him a sympathetic smile.

He waited to hear one of them say something to counter that. If he weren't the one suffering, he may have been the one to make that jest, and it soured him on his own sense of humor. "I'm fine." He lied, and he could see that not a single one of them was buying it.

"I just…" He bowed his head, "I agree."

"Perhaps…" Seer began, but was interrupted when someone else cleared their throat. He looked up and found Priestess giving Seer a not quite bland look for a second longer than was comfortable. Then she turned to face him, her face nearly expressionless.

"Would you be willing to speak?"

* * *

Author's notes: That took longer to write than expected. I struggled with the ending for a while. I was originally going to have him remain silent until the second session, but it feels appropriate at this moment.


End file.
